


Domestic Jekyde Drabbles

by girlswholikegirlsruletheworld



Category: Jekyll & Hyde - Wildhorn/Wildhorn & Bricusse & Cuden/Bricusse, The Glass Scientists (Webcomic), The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde - Robert Louis Stevenson
Genre: Clothes Shopping, Comedy, Crack, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Implied Sexual Content, Look I tried, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Romantic Comedy, Shopping, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, hyde is a fashion expert, jekyll is not, just so much fluff, sleep-talking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:54:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24978004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlswholikegirlsruletheworld/pseuds/girlswholikegirlsruletheworld
Summary: Hyde is a handful at the best of times,  and Jekyll tries his best to deal with his now fully solid and separate devious other half.
Relationships: Edward Hyde/Dr. Henry Jekyll
Comments: 31
Kudos: 87





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> my best friend and I sometimes rp Jekyll and Hyde as a joke, these are the results. very domestic and very fluffy. Separation AU

_How does Jekyll like his eggs in the morning?_

  
_"Jekyll's a heathen who likes sunny side up eggs."_

  
Hyde learned of Jekyll's horrible taste in food on the very first morning after they were separated. Usually, he didn't hang around to watch Jekyll have breakfast, and usually Jekyll didn't even eat breakfast, but by excellent good fortune, that day Hyde had been starving and dragged them both to the kitchen to make themselves some food. He had also been feeling pretty clingy that day because it was a new and very exhilarating feeling to wake up with Jekyll instead of as Jekyll, but he wasn't telling anyone that. 

Hyde, because he was not a horrible person, was humming the Irish folk songs that Jekyll had gotten so sick of while beating a couple of eggs to scramble them. He wasn't paying much attention to Jekyll, mostly because they were still somewhat linked in the mind and he could very easily feel the contentment and the sweetness that Jekyll was feeling at that moment, which was why he gasped and nearly dropped his bowl when he turned and saw Jekyll cracking his eggs directly into the pan and letting them fry.

"Henry!" he cried, absolutely scandalised, and the doctor jumped and stared wildly at him.

  
"What?" he asked, and Hyde pointed a panicked finger at the pan of eggs. _Sunny side up eggs._ "What? What's wrong?"

  
"Why — why are you cooking them like that, you heathen?!" Hyde demanded, and he was horrified to find that Jekyll didn't care for his plight at all, because Jekyll just looked at him with confusion in his beautiful red eyes and proceeded to salt and pepper the monstrosity in looking close to tears at the sight of the eggs, and Jekyll chuckled. Hyde and his dramatics. He motioned for Hyde to come closer, and Hyde whimpered as he inched towards Jekyll and the plate of horror.

"You're the heathen here, love, remember?" Jekyll asked, patting Hyde on the head because he was close to five inches shorter than Jekyll and because he could.

"I propose a reconsideration of that," Hyde grumbled.

"See, you are monstrous without your morning tea," said Jekyll, giggling and kissing Hyde on the forehead, and also swatting his backside, again because he could. "Now, go, make yourself your own eggs if you don't want mine."

"Like you're any better without your bean water," Hyde muttered, doing as he was told for once despite his innate nature to do the exact opposite of what Henry wanted. Maybe for once they just wanted the same thing, who knows, but that would be a miracle. "At least I have class, Henry Jekyll."

"Says you and who else?" Jekyll asked, smirking, though he knew that Rachel would probably agree. She was under the impression that Hyde was some undercover gentleman, probably younger than he really was, and well in some ways, she hadn't really been wrong.

"You dare doubt the Spirit of London at Night, Henry Jekyll?!" Hyde asked, twirling around despite having a bowl of eggs in his hands, his voice louder and excited and though Jekyll hated to admit it, that voice made him smile. "I am power, I am grace, and I am pride itself!"

Jekyll sighed. "Oh great, do I really still have to put up with you monologuing?"  
Hyde giggled, winked at Jekyll, and blew him a kiss. "Yes. It's only right, anyway. I'll always be a part of you, and you'll always be a part of me! I'll always be Henry Jekyll and you'll always be Edward Hyde!"

"Hyde! Not so loud, someone could hear you!" Jekyll hissed, but he didn't look all that worried, so Hyde wasn't persuaded. Much.

He did shut up eventually, and they made their breakfast with little else going wrong. Both of them made their respective drinks, bean water for Henry and leaf water for Edward, and it was only when they sat down together did Hyde have to endure the monstrosity of sunny side up eggs again because Jekyll had the nerve to try and feed them to him.

He'd recoiled and glared at the spoonful of dripping sunshine with the most hateful look he could possibly muster, and what made it worse was that Jekyll had the nerve to just — to just giggle! To giggle at the God of Chaos! At a being of pure and indescribable evil!

"Come on, Hyde," Jekyll said, like he wasn't trying to offer Hyde hell on a spoon, "it's supposed to be good for you. Just try it."

"Henry Jekyll," Hyde hissed, still glaring at the spoon, "I love you but if you don't get that thing out of my sight I will dump it into your coffee."

That actually got a response, bless the Lord and fuck Satan. "Leave my coffee out of this!"

"Well, leave my poor innocent taste buds out of it too! Get it out of my sight and if you plan on eating that — that abomination, no kisses until you brush your teeth!"

"That's too cruel! You wouldn't!" Jekyll cried, and Hyde glared.

"I mean it!"

"Hyde, be reasonable—!"

"I am the God of Chaos, I cannot be reasoned with—"

Jekyll gave him a look, the kind that made Hyde freeze because it looked too much like him, evil and cunning and chaotic. And he kind of liked the look better on Jekyll's face than on his own. "Give me a kiss right this second and shut up about the eggs, and I'll let you top tonight."

Hyde wished he could say he held out and that he held the honour of eggs in the highest regard, but shamefully he didn't ponder for long.

"Fine."


	2. Chapter 2

_Never have I ever fucked Dr. Jekyll, now fess up, Hyde!"_

  
_Hyde maintained a very blank expression as he stared Griffin in the eyes and drank._

  
In his defense, it had not been intentional. All he'd done was walk into the Society, it wasn't his fault that he'd gotten accidentally doused with a strange red liquid that Maijabi had said was supposed to help a couple of spirits who'd gotten so entangled they couldn't tell themselves apart from each other. It wasn't his fault that he didn't register just what that could mean for him and Jekyll, and also not his fault that when he drank the potion instead of transforming him it took Jekyll and spat him out on the floor, limbs made from flesh and blood and muscle instead of weird coloured strings of soul and consciousness.

  
Hyde had not screamed. He had — he had only expressed a very strong emotion through the only means afforded to him at that point. He had only expressed the shock and confusion and the — the excitement he felt upon seeing Jekyll as a separate entity in the most honest, most chaotic way possible. 

Which was to say he screamed like a bitch in a whorehouse.

Okay in his defense, Jekyll had been screaming too. 

"WHAT THE FUCK!" Hyde screamed, at the same time that Jekyll screamed, "WHAT IN DAMNATION!" because Jekyll was a fragile little bitch.

It would be a lie to say that that had been all the screaming, because there had been a lot more screaming. Eventually, though, they came to the conclusion that Maijabi's weird potion had separated them by their spirits, thus giving flesh and blood forms to both of them, and also to Hyde's horror, separating their minds. 

Jekyll would say it was Hyde's fault. And Hyde would definitely not dispute it, because well, it kind of had been his fault, but it was also partly Jekyll's fault for looking so cute in his confusion. It was also not his fault that when Jekyll started bitching and ranting, Hyde did not register that Jekyll did not mean it literally when he screamed, "Go fuck yourself, Hyde!"

"Fuck me yourself!" Hyde had screamed back, and he had not been kidding then, but Jekyll apparently did not realize that because he screamed back, "Fuck you! Fuck you and your stupid fucking face and your ridiculous fucking monologues—"

"Oh, please do!" Hyde screamed back, and Jekyll did not get to say much more because in a matter of milliseconds, they were kissing. And Hyde had not expected Jekyll to be as enthusiastic as he was, even if he probably should have because they still shared a mind and probably shared their arousal at that moment, but Gods, he melted under Jekyll's touch.

However, he would forever deny that he turned into a puddle of pining lust both on the first night and on every subsequent night that they lay together.

He would also forever refuse to say it out loud that he was utterly in love with the repressed jackass that was Henry Jekyll MD, DCL, LLD, FRS, etc, but that didn't matter because they both knew it damn well anyway. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hyde gets caught in the kitchen at 2 AM

_"Never have I ever stayed up past midnight."_

  
_"Jasper you sweet summer child."_

  
_"Hey, Hyde, take your drink! And share some of those cookies to the rest of us next time!"_

  
_"Fuck you, you know that?!"_

  
It was uncommon to be the only one awake in the Society at any given point, and Doddle wasn't sure why he thought it would ever happen to him. He was on one hell of a sugar rush, because that happened sometimes when one sampled his own confectionery, and he had done practically everything short of knocking himself in the head with a frying pan but he still couldn't get to sleep. So he decided, like any good cook in the middle of a London winter, to go and bake some cookies to console and warm the freezing in his heart.

  
He had not counted on seeing the mysterious, reckless, dangerous, evil Mr. Hyde bustling around in the kitchen wearing a lime green apron and not much else, apparently baking chocolate chip cookies and making hot chocolate at two in morning, as was the way of the Spirit of London at Night.

  
There were many things strange about the sight. One, of course, would be the sight of the man, close to naked but for his top hat, his hole-y cape and the green apron, but then again Doddle had once let the guy stick an umbrella up his ass so that wasn't too weird. And also Hyde had slept with pretty much everyone in the Society but Mrs. C, Ito, Jasper and Rachel, so no one else would really find that strange.

  
Maybe it was the Irish folk song that he was humming as he worked, whisking ingredients together with the painstakingly accuracy that was characteristic of an alchemist, not a cook. Doddle, like the rest of the Society, knew fuck all about Hyde besides his kinks and the size of his dick. Jekyll had confirmed that he was Scottish, like Jekyll himself, but that was about it. There was speculation that he was trained in alchemy, because he had once stolen Ito's chemistry kit and made an aphrodisiac out of it, and that he and Jekyll had met through that interest in alchemy. 

  
There was also the rumour that Jekyll was Hyde's father and that Hyde was his half-werewolf bastard son, but Doddle wasn't too fond of the idea that Hyde was fifteen because he would like to not have slept with a kid, and he would also like to believe that Jekyll was not sleeping with his own kid. 

  
Maybe it was the way he looked when he thought no one was looking. He looked — he looked pretty respectable, like a gentleman raised in charm and propriety, and definitely he looked like the kind of guy Jekyll would like. He looked smart and beautiful, and despite wearing nearly nothing he was full of confidence.

  
Or maybe it was just there fact that the cookies were shaped like the letter J, and that Hyde looked like a lovesick girlfriend while he was making them.   
•  
"Jekyll. Jekyll. Jekyll." Hyde poked the side of Jekyll's head. He'd been repeating the guy's last name for the past five minutes and resisting the urge to just bang the dish against his sort-of boyfriend's head. It would be a waste of a perfectly good batch of cookies, but it would also be a waste if they cooled before Henry woke up. "Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. HENRY! JEKYLL!!!!!"

  
He screamed, that time, and bless God and Lucifer, the jackass finally woke up. Hyde wasn't surprised that it took that much, because yet again Jekyll had stayed up too late to work despite Hyde helping him and despite Hyde trying to get him to go to sleep, but also he was insulted because dammit, Henry doesn't ignore him! Ever! That was the one downside to the whole separation ordeal — that Jekyll no longer had to share as much of his brain space and that sometimes he actually didn't listen to Hyde. The nerve!

  
Jekyll jerked awake, staring at Hyde with bleary eyes and Hyde almost felt bad for disturbing his sleep. Almost, because Jekyll needed to taste the cookies before they were cool and because Jekyll looked funny with ink smeared in his cheek and with his hair a right mess instead of painstakingly fixed.

"Hyde, what in the world—"

  
Hyde gave his nose a good 'boop'. "You were ignoring me," he said, and with all the grace of a being of pure evil, he threw himself onto Jekyll's lap. Unfortunately he was still looking up at Henry, even from there, because curse stupid tall boys and curse their stupid attractiveness and also curse the toned wonder that was Henry Jekyll's abs.

  
Jekyll stared at him, and yes, yes that was the attention Hyde wanted. "I was asleep," he said, and then at last, he noticed the beauty of the cookies Hyde was holding. "Were you — were you baking? Is that why I couldn't feel you in the room?"

  
"Aww, were you missing me, Henry?" Hyde asked, grinning cheekily, like he wasn't also daydreaming of the design of their wedding cake while baking cookies.

  
Their wedding cake, by the way, would be a royal maroon with golden accents and it would be bittersweet chocolate flavoured. Some parts would be pockets of straight hot sauce and Hyde would laugh gleefully at whoever was unfortunate enough to get them. 

"Course I was," Jekyll said. "I would've thought you'd understand, Mr. Edward "Koala" Hyde." And he yawned instead of taking a cookie, because again, Henry Jekyll a pathetic bitch, so Hyde jabbed him in the stomach. 

  
"Shut up and take a cookie, Dr. Victorian Repression. And think about what you've done."


	4. Chapter 4

Hyde didn't really remember what Jekyll did. He didn't even remember if it was him who was supposed to be mad and not Jekyll. And yeah, it had barely been a few hours since Jekyll did Gods-know-what to piss Hyde off, but Hyde had never had a particularly good attention span and he could barely remember to put on shoes when he left the house, let alone the specifics of the shit that occupied his daily life. All he knew was that he was pissed off because of what Jekyll did, but also because Jekyll had locked him out of the office while he was in there with fucking Lanyon! And no, he wasn’t at all pissed because he was jealous and because he wanted to be the one who spent hours upon hours in private with Jekyll, shut up, you have no proof of that claim.

That was why he was currently in the kitchen, bugging Rachel while she flip flopped between trying to work and between losing her mind over the cute new werewolf guy. He'd already gotten a new bruise, from her throwing a pan at him when he tried to fool her into saying he'd already gotten a taste of the guy, so now he was pouting in the corner and watching her run around the kitchen, trying out whatever recipes Jekyll wanted for that cursed fucking exhibition.

It was after he watched her puzzle over a supposed fruit pie that had meat and raisins and currants in it that he got the idea. Jekyll, because he was basic as shit, had a huge sweet tooth, and Hyde sometimes shamelessly exploited that to make Jekyll forgive him when he did something extremely stupid, like the time he'd gotten them stabbed and shot. Which meant Hyde, although most people didn't trust him around fire (which was fair because he did burn down near half of London), was a pretty good baker.

But he was also an agent of Chaos, so instead of mixing chocolate chips in with Jekyll's favourite cookie recipe, he instead dumped in a whole bag of raisins. And judging by the speed with which Rachel spat one of the cookies out after they were done, it was suitably horrendous enough for his ends. They did still look like his usual J-shaped cookies, though, because force of habit was a bitch and he was all too used to making the cookies that shape.

Oh, Jekyll would learn. He would learn to respect the fact that Hyde was pure and complete evil! Since their separation, Jekyll had started to believe that Hyde wasn't really evil at all, just annoying, and it was insulting! Hyde was a spirit of evil, a creature born of suffering and fear! And Jekyll would learn that!  


After all, what else but a truly depraved soul would serve raisin-chip cookies?!

Awful Lanyon was still in the room when he returned, unfortunately, and no, Hyde was not jealous, shut up, he was the Spirit of London at Night, and Night Spirits do not get jealous! In fact, he so gracefully avoided Lanyon as he entered the room, very gently placing the cookies in front of Jekyll and giving his alter-ego/boyfriend — ha, take that, Lanyon! — and gently kissing Jekyll on the shoulder. Partly because he needed Jekyll to trust him for the plan to work, and partly because he was jealous even if he was trying his damned best to deny it.

Jekyll sighed and chuckled when Hyde crawled into his lap, which was quite easy when you were the size of a teenager. "What's gotten into you?" he asked, and Hyde blinked innocently at him, although it looked more disturbing than cute.

"I'm apologising for this morning," he said, never mind that he didn't know what the fuck he was apologising for. "I made cookies for you!"

Jekyll squeezed his cheek, and Hyde definitely did not whine, it was not a dignified thing to do and he was not doing it! "You always make cookies when you're in trouble, you little shit," Jekyll said, and Lanyon gasped at the curse because he was a pussy, but Hyde only grinned widely. "Someday I won't forgive you just because you know your way around an oven."

Hyde fluttered his eyelashes. "But that day isn't today, is it?" he asked, and Jekyll sighed. He picked up one of the cookies and Hyde grinned, yes, yes, Jekyll would finally see how evil he was!

"Yeah, yeah, you idiot," Jekyll grumbled, and then he bit into the cookie, and then he was chewing, and then—

And then Jekyll was choking, gagging, and then taking a cloth from his jacket and spitting the cookie into it. Hyde leapt off his lap and onto the table, ignoring Lanyon's screaming when he knocked all the papers off of it, because honestly he was lucky Hyde had the thought to knock them off instead of just stepping on them. "Hyde!" Jekyll hissed, wiping his mouth and looking absolutely furious. "What the fuck!"  


"Oooh, the great Doctor Jekyll is cursing!" Hyde said, spinning on the table. "What a day it is indeed!"

"You heathen! You absolute devil!" Jekyll shouted, and Hyde chortled, jumping onto Jekyll's chair again and getting right in his face. Yes, Jekyll finally knew the true depths of depravity in his heart! At last!

"Oh, come on, Doctor," he sang, booping Jekyll on the nose. "Raisins are good for you, aren't they? Shouldn't a good doctor such as yourself endorse their inclusion in cookies?"

Jekyll glared at him. "I'm a doctor, not a demon!" he said, making a face of absolute disgust that was utterly adorable on him. "You, on the other hand—"

"Yes! Do you finally see, Jekyll? Do you see the true depths of my darkness and evil?"

"Yes! I will not dispute you there!"

"Yay!" Hyde screamed, throwing his arms up and cheering like a kid, looking anything but evil, not that he realised that. After all, Jekyll knew his evil at last! Edward Hyde, alone in the ranks of mankind, was pure evil, and no one would dispute that!

Except for Jekyll. And Rachel. And Jasper. And Doddle and Griffin and Lavender and—


	5. That Godawful Coat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jekyll gets two new coats. hyde gets cockblocked. rachel gets some revenge.

It had all started with a new coat. Jekyll's favourite one, gifted to him by Utterson when he first started the Society, had very recently and also very suspiciously caught on fire after he'd left it on the railing next to his office one day, and the next day when he'd come to collect it, it was nothing but ash. So, though he'd planned on avoiding all human contact that day, he was forced to go to the shops and look for a coat that looked very similar, partly because he wasn't about to tell Utterson that his gift had turned to dust, but partly because Jekyll had absolutely no eye for style and thus had to settle with the comfort that if it looked like the one his far more smartly-dressed friends got for him, then it was good enough.

He thought that was that. When he returned to his office, he would get to work and find some way to keep the Society open even if his very hard-headed — and according to Hyde, ungrateful — Lodgers refused to do the exhibition that would earn them both the moral and financial support of the wealthy peoples of London. He would stay in his office all day, again, and let Hyde bring him his food and remind him to eat and sleep, again, and he would probably have a few glasses of wine and be yelled at, very hypocritically by Hyde, for his alcohol problems.

Which, by the way, he did not have; he was a perfectly functioning alcoholic with a better tolerance than Edward Hyde himself and he did not need help, thank you, _Hyde_.

But when he'd walked into the office, Hyde was at his desk, evidently working on the research approval forms that the Lodgers handed in every so often when they needed funding for whatever they were doing at the moment. Unfortunately, the second he'd set eyes on Jekyll, he'd leapt up off the desk and knocked all the papers off — and Jekyll, to his horror, saw that a few of the forms were denied, which he would have _words_ with Hyde for later — and threw himself at Jekyll.

Their hug, unfortunately, did not last very long because Hyde quickly pulled back with a disgusted expression. "Jekyll, dear, I love you," he said, slowly, but as he was Edward Hyde, it still sounded somewhat like an insult, and then he added, "but why in the world are you wearing that coat?"

"Because I cannot wear my old one, which overnight has turned into a pile of charcoal," he said, giving Hyde a flat look and earning only a reckless grin in lieu of an apology. He pinched Hyde on the wrist. "Your little jealous spats need so much work, Mr. Hyde."

"Oh, no, he's pulling out the honorifics, I'm in trouble," said his devilish love, wrapping his hands around Jekyll's shoulders, which of course meant he was hanging off of Jekyll with his feet not even touching the floor, because he was extraordinarily short. "Also, your good Gabriel Utterson," and the lawyer's name was said in a disturbingly accurate imitation of Jekyll's accent, "has been thirsting over you for fifteen years, how haven't you noticed?

Jekyll squinted at the shorter man. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing! Now back to the topic! I've never seen that coat before, and may I say, love," his lover said, in the sweetest and most beautiful tone, "it's positively hideous."

"What? It looks exactly like the one you burned, you stupid devil," Jekyll huffed, and prepared to turn back to his work when Hyde let out a loud, great and dramatic gasp.

"Jekyll."

"What."

"I love you, I truly do, but you're a complete and utter moron."

Jekyll stared at his smaller and more devious other half. "I beg your pardon?"

"That coat is hideous!" Hyde shrieked, and a crash was heard outside the door, probably from one of the Lodgers being startled by Hyde's screaming. Jekyll only blinked. "The stitching at the seams is more uneven than my fucking hair and the seam across your shoulder looks like the lining of my cape and the material is coarser than my hat—"

"I get it, you're self-centred and have horrible fashion sense, move on, love."

Hyde's eyes could've bugged out, and he started pacing up and down the office. "Horrible fashion— me?! Horrible fashion sense?! How dare you! And in that coat! I've never been more insulted!"

Jekyll chuckled. "Not even when Rachel and Lanyon thought you were a closeted gentleman?"

"Not even then! Take off that abomination right now! I am — I am getting you some suitable clothes!" Hyde screeched, and with an irritatingly strong grip, he grabbed Henry by the wrist and all but wrenched him out of the office and out of the Society.

Jekyll flailed, trying to pull his arm back but only succeeding in getting pulled along even faster. "Hyde, I can't — I can't be shopping for clothes all day! I have work to do! Important work!"

"Your appearance and clothes are important too, you uncultured bear!" Hyde hissed back, his voice dropping in volume but also dropping back into their natural Glaswegian accent. And no, Jekyll was never going to admit aloud that he preferred that accent on Hyde than the Cockney or English accent they both faked. "I'm only glad you showed me before you showed up to one of your bullshit gentlemanly parties in that sack! Your reputation, love! Imagine that! Dr. Jekyll, the miracle worker who never encountered a disease he could not cure, ruined because of a coat! Ridiculous!"

"No — no one's ever called me a miracle worker," Jekyll muttered, blushing redder than his eyes and that accursed potion, and Hyde scoffed.

"Not to your face, no, but it's the talk all over London. People saying your gift is wasted running that house of ungrateful brats instead of curing all the world's ailments or something like that. Frankly, it's probably why Frankenstein hates you so much; you're both greatly intelligent yet also kind, and both a great scientist and a respected man. She's never been either and you've become both." And he said that all in one breath, and if Jekyll wasn't busy trying to pass for a tomato, he might've been worried for his partner's respiratory health.

"Flatterer," he muttered, blushing and wishing he could evaporate, and Hyde's answering grin showed all his teeth.

"Why, I'm only telling the truth, my dear doctor," said Hyde, grinning as he dragged Jekyll into the clothes' shop he often frequented. And while Hyde would sooner burn in hell than admit it, he often frequented the shop just to see what might suit Jekyll, wondering if he could buy Jekyll those clothes as gifts. And today, he would! "Now get in, you dumb fuck, and stand still. I'll get clothes for you."

And for good measure, because he wasn't sure Jekyll wasn't going to bolt as soon as he turned his back, Hyde gave Jekyll a deep, dizzying kiss, the kind he knew would paralyse Jekyll where he stood, and then with his signature wicked smirk, he turned and disappeared into the masses of clothes and coats and shirts.

Jekyll stared at him, dazed, confused, and ridiculously, utterly in love.

•••••

Doctor Henry Jekyll was whining.

_Whining_.

He'd been in the goddamn shop for what felt like hours, standing still as he could as Hyde ran back and forth along the halls and aisled with his arms heavy with coats and accessories and even shoes, the goddamn hypocrite, forcing him to try on various looks that frankly all looked similar to him anyway. And quite frankly, although it didn't match his supposedly gentlemanly nature, he was ready to tell Hyde to get fucked sideways by a bullfrog.

"Edward this is the fifth outfit you've made me try out!" he whined, staring at yet another ensemble with a deep maroon button-up shirt and a black overcoat and black pants and reddish brown shoes. Very much like the other four he'd already tried on and also like the outfit he'd actually come to the damned shop wearing.

Hyde, however, was still fussing over the outfit and grinning gleefully, either because it actually looked good or because he was an utter bitch who took pleasure in Jekyll's suffering. "Yes, but this one has more pockets! And you can tell that the sewing technique on those cuffs is just exquisite! And those lapels and the hems — beautiful!"

"I have work to do! We both do!"

"Oh, hush your face, this is the last outfit, I promise," said Hyde, and Jekyll groaned.

"You said that two outfits ago!"

Hyde giggled. "Oh. So I did. No matter." He grabbed another pile of cloth.

Jekyll made a frustrated noise at the back of his throat and only barely resisted the urge to fall to his knees and cry. "I'm perfectly fine with how I look, Hyde! I don’t see why any of this is necessary!"

"Well, I do!" Hyde declared. "Your regular clothes do absolutely nothing to show off your perfect body and beautiful built and goddamnit, the world needs to see how pretty you are! Now hold the fuck still or I will catch your dick in the zippers."

And Jekyll did hold the fuck still, partly because he didn't want to be castrated — of course, he suspected that Hyde wouldn't actually do it but one never quite knew with Edward Hyde — but also because all the blood in his body seemed to have rushed to his cheeks and made him look not so much like a tomato but rather more like Jupiter's Great Red Spot.

But of course, it would only get worse from there. Jekyll full well knew that Hyde was a very physically affectionate lover, from his insistent eight-hour cuddle timer to the octopus-seeming way he wrapped his arms around Jekyll when they were asleep. But good Gods Hyde was being performative and exceedingly sappy on purpose and he damn well knew it. He kept touching Jekyll's chest as he inspected the outfits, running his hands along Jekyll's arms and thighs, kissing his palms and cheeks whenever he could, and of course, as was the perverse way of Edward Hyde, leering and staring at Jekyll whenever he was changing clothes.

"Hyde!" Jekyll whined as he caught his dear, evil lover smirking like an absolute creep, staring at him and licking his lips and teeth, dragging his eyes up and down Jekyll's form as though trying to commit everything to memory. Hyde's eyes, the most lovely jewel-toned viridian hue known the man, burned with barely restrained and truly unconcealed lust, and Jekyll could die to know that he was the one who lit those desires in Edward Hyde.

"Yes, love?" Hyde asked, his voice coarse and deep, and Jekyll blushed from his forehead to his chest.

"You've seen me naked before, Edward, what's the big deal?" he asked helplessly, and Hyde chuckled.

"Well, Henry," Hyde whispered, coming up to Henry and breathing against his lips, his predatory gaze never leaving Jekyll's body, "people do tend to appreciate art more than once, my dear Jekyll. And you are an utterly beautiful work of art indeed."

And no, Jekyll absolutely did not get so flustered that he ran right out of the changing rooms and hid in the shop. No, they definitely did not get caught by the irritated shop owner who told them to leave if they weren't buying anything, and no Jekyll absolutely, positively did not blush and grin like an idiot when Hyde declared that yes, they were buying because everyone needed to know how beautiful his boyfriend was. None of that happened. None. At all.

Things that happened and didn’t happen aside, they were home soon enough. And Hyde, evidently still very wound up, was rather eager in demonstrating his appreciation for the art once they were behind closed doors. And of course after their purchase for the day was safely stored away for Hyde to drool over later.

"You're an absolute beauty, my dear," Hyde whispered, in his deep, husky Glaswegian accent, his hands quickly and nimbly stripping Jekyll of that god-awful coat, "the most wonderful piece of art to ever grace the sorry barren surface of this pathetic Earth."

Jekyll blushed, feeling as though he might melt into the soft sheets beneath him. "Works of art usually aren't meant to be defaced, love."

"Perhaps not," Hyde agreed, with a dangerous glint in his eyes. "But they are meant to be appreciated. And I do appreciate you, Henry, more than you know. I love you. Irrevocably, undeniably."

And Jekyll blushed even darker, and he fluttered his eyelashes at Hyde, smiling shyly. "Then show me, Edward Hyde."

"Gladly." And Hyde pounced upon Jekyll like a tiger might pounce upon his prey. Jekyll gasped at Hyde's sharp, canine teeth dragging down his neck; at Hyde's cold hands roaming the bare skin of Jekyll's chest and thighs and arms; at Hyde's every whispered compliment that lit Henry's cold, dark heart with hellfire, and Hyde grinned like the devil, ready to give his dear, desperate love the touch of sin he so craved—

And then a distinctly feminine scream pierced the air, and Hyde leapt back, fell off the bed, and knocked his head on the floorboards before he could glare at whoever had interrupted them.

"Miss Rachel!" Jekyll screamed, pulling the covers over himself, staring horrified at his dear friend who was also staring back at him, albeit she looked more eager and less mortified, like he was. "Good — good evening!"

She smirked. This would be payback for the time Hyde's stupidity had prevented her from getting laid that one night in Chapter 9. "It's time for dinner, Master Hyde and Doctor Jekyll. But if you are otherwise occupied—"

"Yes, we were occupied, I was already getting ready for dessert," Hyde grumbled, which Jekyll felt was unfair because Hyde was at least still mostly dressed. Rachel only frowned and pinched Hyde's arm.

"Master Hyde, you malnourished fuck," she said, in a very plain and calm voice, "swallowing Dr. Jekyll does not count as a healthy meal nor does it count as a healthy dose of sunshine."

Hyde smirked. "Well, maybe not, but it does count as a healthy dose of exercise. And if you're still mad about me cockblocking you and the werepup, you two could always join us—"

"We'll be there!" Jekyll interrupted, still very, very red and very much wondering just why he had such a fucked up life, and Hyde and Rachel chortled. "Don't listen to him! Shut him up! Leave me to get dressed please, Miss Rachel, and please strive to not interrupt such — crucial moments in the future."

She giggled as she dipped out of the room, probably — most definitely — to spread the gossip to the rest of the Society, and Jekyll groaned as he lay back down. "Why am I. What am I. How am I."

Hyde chuckled as he tossed Jekyll's clothes back at him. "Simple. I exist to make your life Hell and you love me for it," he said, and was thanked for his wisdom by a pillow to the face.

"Just because you're right doesn't mean you can say it. Shut up."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hyde has insomnia and builds a fortress out of cans and jekyll wants to throw lanyon in a ditch. hyde also gets slightly high.
> 
> (part 1 of a two-shot about our boys sleep-talking)

Both Henry Jekyll and Edward Hyde had a habit of sleep-talking.

When they were the same person, it wasn't all that bad, because they were both asleep, and more than likely both in the Hall of Memories, either bickering or screaming or just bitching at each other. Mostly bitching, if Jekyll was being honest, because when they were both just pieces of a mind, there were less boundaries between Henry Jekyll and Edward Hyde. It was easier for them to accidentally lapse into the mannerisms of the other, with Jekyll occasionally being a violent shit and Hyde just wanting to lay down with a book and a warm blanket. And if either of them said anything in their sleep, well, there was no one there to hear it, so it didn't really matter.

Since getting separated, however, that had been a bit of a problem, because even after being separated, they still both tended to babble in their sleep.

The problem wasn't that they couldn't sleep or that they were woken up because of the sleep-talking. They were both insomniacs, and it was likely that they weren't sleeping anyway. No, it was because now, if they did sleep-talk, there would be someone there to hear them.

And so, when Jekyll started grumbling in his sleep one night while Hyde was still up trying to make a fortress out of cans, Hyde very gladly listened to whatever his strange creator had to say. Partly because Jekyll had a tendency to swear like a sailor when he was sleep-talking, and partly because Jekyll's voice dropped into his Scottish accent whenever he wasn't consciously forcing his English accent

"Fuckin — fuckin' Lanyon, take your stupid fuckin' freckled cheeks and get the fuck out of m'head," Jekyll grumbled, swatting at the air, and Hyde giggled when Jekyll wrinkled his nose as if he was being subjected to Lanyon's piggish squealing laugh. Probably Mind!Lanyon working his wonders. "No, I don't give a fuck about your fuckin' ghosts, leave me the fuck alone—!" And then, some more mumbling before he added, "Should'a let Hyde kill yer when we had the chance. . ."

Hyde giggled and he pet Jekyll on the head. "See, I should've killed him with his own stupid sword years ago!" And as for whether he meant the Lanyon that dwelled in their head or the Lanyon that lived beyond it? Yes.

"Acid fuckin' green — fuckin' 'ell I knew you were stupid but —" Jekyll grunted and rolled over, nearly falling off the bed, and Hyde gently pushed him back onto the bed so he didn’t fall off. That'd wake him up and ruin Hyde's moment. "See, this 's'why Hyde hates ya. . . motherfucker . . . yeah, yea heard me, you slimy fuck—! Fuck m— fight me, motherfuckin' coward, ya _bitch_."

"Aww, if Lanyon could hear you now," Hyde cooed, petting Jekyll gently, tearing up in pride. "You tell him, Jekyll! Tear him a new one! I'm so proud of you, baby!"

Jekyll gasped then, as if he just saw a woman's ankle and wanted to faint. "Pools of fuckin' acids!— no way in hell, ya stupid bitch! . . . No, no, motherfuckin— Hyde's not— no — shut up—" and then he rolled over and sniffed into the pillow. Hyde grinned.

"Oooooh, Hyde's not what, Henry?" he asked, intrigued about what Jekyll was arguing with the spectre of Lanyon about, and how that related to him. And also what warranted the cursing.

"Eyes," Jekyll muttered, rolling over again, "s'not fuckin' acid — acid _green_ , you disgusting fuck— you uncultured fucking motherfucker— his eyes are — yes, I'm a fuckin' narcissist, so fuckin' what you snot-nosed prick — his eyes — they're so fuckin' beautiful, they're unreal and you call them acid — what the fuck. I thought you were the perfect gentleman — you're slippin' — fuck, I'm in love." And he grunted again, curling into his pillow, and while Hyde could feel the little amount of blood his body had rush into his cheeks, he was not acknowledging that confession. Not while Jekyll was asleep, anyway.

_"Viridian_ , you uncultured shit," Jekyll declared, with a gesture so wide he would've whacked Hyde in the nose if he didn't duck. "His eyes are the most — most fuckin' beautiful viridian shade and — fuck, they look like jewels and ughhhh I'm so bi," he whined, and Hyde blushed again, trying to hide it behind a pillow even if no one was technically watching him. "No, fuck you, die in a ditch motherfucker — yes, there's a fuckin' difference — oh, fuck off and burn in hell. . ."

And finally, Jekyll shut up and rolled over again, falling back into a silence as he continued sleeping. Hyde, on his side, abandoned his can fortress and sat next to Jekyll, rocking back and forth with his pillow and petting Jekyll on the head. He was blushing bright red and also uncomfortably excited, and he giggled as he kissed Jekyll on the forehead and settled into bed next to him.

"You're so cute when you're murderous," he cooed, and allowed his warm cheeks to warm his dead heart and lull him to sleep.

Nothing more was said on the topic of viridian eyes until the next day, while Hyde was staring at Jekyll instead of working with Jekyll like he was supposed to. Jekyll raised an eyebrow at him, and Hyde giggled as he abandoned his papers and went to cuddle into Jekyll's neck from behind again. "Sooooo," he called, dragging out the word before breaking into a fit of cackling.

In his defense, people did weird shit when they lacked sleep. Or when they had had too much coffee. Or too much sugar. All of which Hyde had done, because hell, he was still hell-bent on figuring out what drugs Doddle puts in his cakes. He was blaming his antics on those drugged cakes. Though then again, Hyde did weird shit whatever the time and whatever the occasion. Whatever.

"Hello, Hyde," Jekyll said, not really looking at Hyde but also not ignoring him either. Unless of course he was smiling at his paperwork. "You're not drugged up on one of Doddle's stolen confections again, are you? You know he isn't friendly about his stuff getting stolen."

Hyde giggled and started trying to chew on Henry's collar. "Nooooooooo," he said, and hey, was the room upside down? Or repainted green? All he could see was green. He blinked. And now it was red. Green. Red. Green and red and green and red. Oooh, he'd gotten Christmas eyes! Not that he and Jekyll were overly fond of Christmas, but still.

And then, by some miracle, because at the moment he could barely remember whether or not he was wearing clothes, he remembered the night prior and Jekyll's sleepy time ramblings. He started poking at his creator. "Hey. Hey. Hey. Jekyll. You're red. Jekyll."

Jekyll chuckled and swatted away Hyde's hand. "Yes. Yes. Yes. That's me. No, I'm not. What?"

Hyde giggled and kissed the back of Jekyll's hair and then started nibbling on the chair. "Hey, what colour do you think my eyes are?" he asked, and then covered them with his hair. "No cheating!"

Jekyll gave him a curious look. Or maybe it was murderous. Hyde couldn't tell because he had hair in front of his eyes. "Exactly why are you asking?" he asked, like a hypocrite, and Hyde removed his mouth from the chair for a few seconds to answer.

"Because think about how cool it would be to have acid coloured eyes!" Hyde cheered, giggling. "Imagine how terrified people would be of me if I could scald them, corrode their spirits with my eyes alone! I will be forever known as— uh, Henry?" He poked his creator in the cheek. "Helloooo? Still there? Still alive? Henry?"

Jekyll took a deep breath. "Alright," he hissed. "I'm only going to say this once so listen here and listen well, you fucking gremlin. You have eyes the color of fuckin' jewels and they're sharp and sparkling under any light and if I hear someone get it wrong again they will have a personal fuckin' escort up the Devil's ass—"

Jekyll's distracted rambling lasted about an hour, but by the end of it, neither of them were complaining. Well, Hyde was, because now they were behind schedule and had to rush the paperwork and also they had to deal with Lanyon bitching at them, but well, the cuddles and kisses that Hyde got was worth it.

And it was only made better by Lanyon, for once, because every time Jekyll dared to be affectionate with Hyde, Lanyon bristled with very, very badly concealed jealousy, and Hyde got to stick his tongue out at Lanyon before sticking his tongue down Jekyll's throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in reference to the latest page (as of august 4th), can we agree that hyde is in severe need of some brain cells?


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jekyll has alcohol problems and hyde is confidently insecure. from these, a cute nickname is born.
> 
> (part 2 of the sleep-talking arc thing, featuring some light angst)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my friend misspelled jekyll as jelly and now we call jekyll jelly. also i went overboard with this, and i hope it's enjoyable.

The next sleep-talking incident happened the next week, when Hyde had gone with some of the Lodgers on a night out and returned drunk, sleepy, and loopy. Hyde hadn't wanted to go when he realised that, for once on his nights out, he would be leaving Jekyll behind, but Jekyll had all but pushed Hyde out the door and yelled at him to have fun. Jekyll would have liked to go with them of course, but the good doctor could never be seen someplace so disgraceful.

Apparently, he was so grumpy and irritated over missing his freedom and his nights as Hyde, far away from his responsibilities and without the reputation and status that always plagued him, that he stayed up far into the night drinking himself into a stupor at the foot of his bed. Hyde had already crashed into bed, his head buried so far into the pillows it looked like he was going to suffocate, and Jekyll watched him miserably as he drank himself silly. He missed being one with Hyde. Missed the freedom that came with it. The joy. The life. The evil. The recklessness. The escape from being practically perfect Dr. Jekyll.

He slumped over, nearly tipping over the bottle of wine, and he was just about to pass out on the floor when he heard a giggle come from the bed.

"Jelly," the giggling person said, and Jekyll poked his head up over the edge of the bed. Hyde was cuddled into a large pillow, his socks and cape still on and his shirt looking stained with what Jekyll hoped was alcohol, giggling into the pillow and jerking about in his sleep. "Jellyyyyyy!"

"What?" Jekyll asked, like a fool, because Hyde was asleep and Hyde couldn't hear him.

"Henry Jelly," Hyde answered, as he rolled over and kicked into the air. "Henry Jelly! Jelly, jelly, jelly, jelly!" He giggled again and rolled over, his head now hanging off the edge of the bed, and Jekyll absently poked Hyde's cheeks and ears and eyes. Truth be told, he wasn't sure whether or not Hyde was actually asleep, but either way, he was kind of cute. Not that he was saying that outloud.

"Doctor Henry Jelly," Hyde giggled, and he squeezed the giant pillow. "Cutie. Cutie Jelly. Watch — watch it, Lanyon you bitch, m'gonna fight you for the cutie. Fight me bitch! Fight me for Henry!" At that, Hyde jerked again, rolling back onto the bed, and Jekyll stared at him, his cheeks flaming and his head splitting in half. No, wait, that was just the alcohol.

"Edward Jelly," Hyde continued, still giggling, and against his better judgment, Jekyll sat up onto the bed and let Hyde lay his head in his lap. Hey, he was already wallowing in alcohol and self-pity, no one was going to judge him for taking care of his sleeping alter-ego and sort-of boyfriend. "M' gonna be Eddie Jelly. Jelly, jelly, jelly, jelly! Marry me, Jelly!"

And Jekyll's face exploded to be about the same colour as his eyes. Or the hellish shadows that his curtains tended to cast across his office. He chuckled, feeling drowsy and very definitely drunk, and tipped over until his face was in Hyde's thigh. "Marry me, Edward," he mumbled, sniffing Hyde's clothes, and Hyde, underneath him, giggled again.

"My squishy Jelly baby," Hyde slurred, probably also as drunk as Jekyll, though because he was asleep, he didn't have to suffer the disorientation that Jekyll was. He was probably also suffocating from having his nose pressed into Jekyll's torso, but then again Hyde was used to choking, and also speaking for about ten minutes at a time without pausing to breathe, so Jekyll didn't give too much of a shit. "Cheeeeeeeks. Let me squeeze your cheeks, Jelly. . ."

Jekyll giggled alongside Hyde and leaned back up, taking Hyde's floppy hands and holding them to his face. He knew he didn't really have squishy cheeks, but fuck it, he was drunk and he wanted to be happy and he wanted to be loved, alright?

Hyde chortled and rolled over, face down in Jekyll's lap and his legs twisted, his hair looking like a mess of wires. "I love you, Jelly," he mumbled, much softer, now, and Jekyll blushed at the tenderness in his voice. "I love you, always will, even if I don't deserve someone like you. . ."

Jekyll startled at that, and he stared down at Hyde. Stared as best as he could while swaying back and forth, anyway. "No," he gasped, caressing Hyde's hair, and his face crumpled when Hyde sniffed and cuddled into Jekyll's lap. "No, Hyde, love, no, I love you, you alone," he whispered, but it didn't stop Hyde's self-deprecating muttering.

"I'm sorry, Jelly," Hyde whispered, and Jekyll would forgive him for sounding like he might cry, but he sounded so calm, so sure, so certain that it made Jekyll shudder. "Sorry for everything. Everything I said. Everything I did. I promise I'll make it up to you, all of it. I'll do anything. Anything to make you happy, anything to make you smile. Anything, anything."

Then he rolled over again and giggled, and although his words were still slurry and mumbly and soft, Jekyll could make out the words and tune of a song he often heard Hyde humming. "I know that now and forever. . . they'll never be able to separate Jekyll and Hyde. . ."

Jekyll stared. For an embarrassingly long time. Hyde wound up getting derailed from the song into another one that Jekyll didn't recognise, and then again from that song into a ramble about the history of coats. He didn't mean to, honest. But though he'd never admit it to anyone, he thought Hyde was breathtakingly beautiful, regardless of how many people were instinctively repulsed by his presence. He was always so free, so honest, and so alive, and Jekyll hated that he had once been the reason such beauty couldn't be free, but for now, he was content to watch Hyde and to listen to him talk, listen to him sing.

However, he did not expect Hyde to suddenly open one of his beautiful, jeweled eyes and crack an amused smirk at him. "Hey, love," he said, amused, and Jekyll quite embarrassingly fell off the bed and smashed the bottle of wine he'd been drinking from.

"Hello," Jekyll said, blinking and smiling and probably sparkling, too. Hyde reached over as best as he could and waved the sparkles away. "I thought you were asleep."

Hyde grinned as he took Jekyll's hand and pulled him up onto the bed. "I was, but you know me; I can't stay asleep for long. At least when I'm not stuck in your arms, anyway."  


Jekyll chuckled, taking Hyde into his arms and kissing him on the forehead. "So you rambled about coats just to humour me?" he mumbled, noting that his words were slurred. "Just so I'd stare at you?"

"Look, call me narcissistic, but I like it when you stare at me. Makes a guy feel pretty," said Hyde, cuddling deeper into Jekyll's chest. And then, he frowned, and kicked Jekyll in the shin. "Also, are you fucking drunk? What the fuck, Jekyll? Since when do you get drunk? You have a fucking terrifying alcohol tolerance, how the hell are you drunk?"

The supposedly good but currently very reckless doctor shrugged, and he began lifting up chunks of Hyde's hair to braid them. Badly. "Been — been a few hours. Maybe several. I don't know."

Hyde pinched him on the side, and he yelped. "How much have you drank?"

"Not sure," Jekyll chirped cheerfully, and Hyde pinched him again. "Hey!"

"You realise you're going to have one hell of a headache in the morning," Hyde hissed, pulling away and staring up at Jekyll. "Aren't you supposed to be the better half? The one that — usually — doesn't make stupid ass decisions?"

Jekyll pouted and whined, "Maybe I'm tired of being the better half. Besides, if I didn't make stupid decisions, I wouldn't be fucking you." He pinched Hyde's cheeks, despite there not being much there to pinch, and moved them both to lie down. And then as Hyde giggled and leaned into his hold, he gasped and shot up, banging their heads together and making them both groan. "Hyde!" he screamed, and Hyde winced.

" _Christ_ , Henry, why. Too loud," Hyde whined, and no, neither of them were going to address the fact that they'd seemingly switched roles. It wasn't the first time Hyde had had to be the voice of reason, however mortifying that knowledge was. "And why are you wearing shoes to bed? I will hit you with your fucking shoes."

Jekyll frowned. "Because I'm worried about you!"

Hyde stared at Jekyll. "Henry, there's nothing new about that. Also, that has nothing to do with shoes."

"I know!"

"Then why—! Ugggghhhh," Hyde grumbled, rolling over and pulling them back both into bed. "I love you when you're being stupid, but even this is a little too stupid, Jekyll."

"It's not stupid to be worried about my boyfriend," Jekyll grumbled, and no, Hyde was _not_ blushing at that, shut up. They just almost never actually defined their relationship, and whenever it did happen, usually it was by Hyde, not cute, shy, and perfectly repressed Jekyll.

"Maybe not, but it's stupid that you're worried _all the damn time_ ," said Hyde, crawling so that he was lying on top of Jekyll, which was an easy feat because Jekyll was both broader and taller than him. "I can handle myself, you know."

Jekyll sighed. "I know, Hyde, but you know me."

"Yes, I know you're a paranoid fuck, what's new?" said Hyde, smirking, one hand in Jekyll's hair and the other on Jekyll's chest.

"Oh, shut up," Jekyll said, giving Hyde the smallest of kisses because he was a prude. Hyde pouted, and Jekyll squeezed his cheek again. "I care about you and your skinny ass, alright? Someone has to, if you won't."

"Oh, please, you love this skinny ass. Now shut up and go the fuck to sleep," Hyde hissed. He also gave Jekyll an actual kiss, before pulling the covers over them both. For now, he would ignore Jekyll's shoes and the shattered glass on the floor. He had cuddles to catch up on.




The next day, as was expected, Hyde woke up with an absolute devil of a headache and numerous thoughts about the futility of his existence. What was not expected, though, was the presence of Jekyll still drooling into his pillow next to him.

Jekyll pretty much never woke up later than him, no matter how late they both went to sleep. Usually, that was the bane of Hyde's existence, because unlike a regular partner who would cuddle their partner until they both were ready to wake up, Jekyll had a habit of picking Hyde up and throwing him over his shoulder if he refused to get up. But apparently, he was both drunk and sleep-deprived enough to break his frankly horrendous sleep cycle, which Hyde decided was an accomplishment.

He did decide, for the sake of his face when he inevitably trips into the thing, to clean up the smashed bottle. However, he decided to be a better partner than Jekyll usually was and settled back into bed, content to cuddle Jekyll until he inevitably woke up with a bitch of a headache. Then, they could suffer in hangovers together.

He was disappointed, however, when Jekyll woke up and carried on about getting dressed without a single sign of a headache. And yes, it was a bonus when Jekyll was forced to be the one to dress Hyde and it was also a bonus to be able to force Jekyll to put make-up on him for once, but it was still incredibly unfair for Hyde to be suffering so much when Jekyll was very smugly walking around with his stupid cute smile and his beautifully stupid sparkles.

"How are you not dying?!" Hyde complained as he was forced to walk into the kitchen of the Society despite his head being split in half and his will to live vanishing by the second. "You drank more than me!"

Jekyll chuckled. "Oh, believe me, I'm definitely dying. I'm just much better at hiding it than you are, sweetheart," he said, giving Hyde a gentle kiss on the cheek as they both stumbled up to the stove. Hyde only groaned and threw himself over the counter, moaning in agony.

"Ughhhh, I feel like my soul is being torn in half," he complained, and Jekyll snorted.

"We've both felt that already, Edward, and this isn't nearly as bad," said Jekyll, rolling his eyes, and Hyde only huffed.

"Now who's going to end up outing us to the Lodgers," Hyde grumbled, crossing his arms. "And I'm not going to be blamed for fulfilling the one purpose for which I was born."

Jekyll raised an eyebrow. "Being a drama lord?"

"No, being honest," Hyde hissed, getting up and jabbing Jekyll in the chest. "Which you need to do a hell of a lot of work on. Who hides a hangover? What sane person—!"

"Well, I hardly want the Lodgers to know about my alcohol issues," Jekyll snorted. "And besides, I'm not the one being dishonest, at the moment."

Hyde waved his arms wildly. "You're sparkling through a hangover what do you mean????"

"I mean," said Jekyll, in that stern 'I'm the superior being and you have no authority to question that' voice that Hyde would never admit got him hard, "that I heard you last night, Hyde. And despite what you say, I think it's reason to be worried about you."

"What?" Hyde asked, blinking. "What did you hear me say? If it's that I think Lanyon actually dresses well, I feel inclined to tell you that if you tell him that, I am thus allowed to gossip to Archer and Lavender about your affair with Morcant."

Jekyll rolled his eyes. "Well, technically, it was your affair with her, too, and I don't think I'll mind all that much to have them know. And that's not what I meant."

"Well, what did you mean, Dr. Cryptic?"

Jekyll sighed, and he took Hyde's hands and stared into his eyes. Hyde couldn't fault him, because Jekyll was a hopeless romantic who usually was just too scared to take his chances, but he still didn't understand just what he did to warrant the romanticism. "Hyde, you said — in your sleep — that you were sorry about everything you'd done to me. And that you'd do anything to make it up to me."

Hyde blinked. "Well, yes, I would. And I am. Sorry, I mean. I was — I was a piece of shit to you, and I should've seen that I was making things worse for you when my entire purpose was to help you get better. You know, restore the side of you that isn't constantly suicidal. And I fucked that up, and I fucked you up, so for the moment my new purpose is to help you recover from all the shit I brought down on you, while protecting you from the bitches and dicks who make your life Hell. I don't really think you need to worry about that."

Jekyll blushed, and Hyde giggled as he took Jekyll's face in his hands. "And if it's about the Jelly thing, let it be known that I blame Jasper, and that I think it's a cute nickname."

"What does Jasper have to do with that?"

"He misspelled your name as Doctor Henry Jelly on one of his forms," Hyde said, shrugging, as he squeezed Jekyll's cheeks. "What's got you worried, if not that?"

"Hyde — Edward — you said that although you loved me, you didn't think you deserved me," Jekyll whispered, and Hyde froze. Oh, _no_. "You said you didn't deserve someone like me."

"Well, am I — was I wrong?" Hyde asked, trying to understand just why that was a thing that mattered. He was a selfish fuck, after all, and even if he didn't deserve Jekyll, he wanted him anyway. "You're — you're you, for Hell's sake! Perfect, beautiful, kind and caring Dr. Jekyll! Not only that, you're good and kind and you want the best for even the people who don't deserve your forgiveness! Hell, you're dating me! You love me! Despite everything I've done! I'm a wanted criminal, for God's sake! I don't deserve someone like you!"

Jekyll looked affronted. "Hyde, I think it's for me to decide who I want and who I deserve!"

Hyde snorted. "As if you can be trusted with a decision like that," he huffed. "And calm down, I'm not leaving you, I'm too selfish for that. I love you, and you love me, and even I can admit that that's what matters. I just want to become someone who deserves you."

Jekyll sniffed, and honestly he wasn't even going to deny that he was blushing at that. "I — just — _Hyde_ ," he sighed, and gently kissed his boyfriend. "I — I love you, alright? Remember that? And that I think you're perfectly beautiful as you are?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know that already, ye sap," Hyde chuckled, petting Jekyll's hair. "Now shut up and leave to perish."

Jekyll rolled his eyes and dropped Hyde on the table, and rolled his eyes again when Hyde groaned and flopped onto the table, his legs hanging off of the side. He was only glad none of the Lodgers were awake yet. "If I offer to make you breakfast, will you quit the dramatics?"

Hyde cracked open an eye and glared at Jekyll. "No, I don't trust you to not make me those jiggling yellow abominations."

Jekyll chuckled. "Sunny side up eggs, you mean?" he asked, and Hyde vigorously nodded. Jekyll sighed. "Fine, I'll make something else. I'll put my love for my sunny side up eggs behind my love for you. Just this once."

"Yay!" Hyde grinned, though he was in much too much pain to actually get up. "I knew you loved me."

"I do, you gremlin, and don't you forget it."

"Aww, I love you too, Jelly."

"No, Hyde. You're not calling me that."

"I so am. Henry Jelly. Baby Jelly. Cutie Jelly."

Jekyll raised an eyebrow. "Edward Jelly, too?"

"Yes," Hyde grinned. "When you marry me."

Jekyll chuckled, and Hyde sighed a dreamy lovesick sigh. Goddamn, he was lucky. "That's illegal."

"My existence is illegal," Hyde huffed. "Do you think I give a fuck?"

"No, not really," Jekyll said, "but in all truth, if I'm to marry you, I expect a better proposal than that."

Hyde grinned. "Oh, don't worry, you'll get one," he assured. "You deserve the best after all, Henry Jekyll."


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it snows, hyde has a tiny crush on the creature, jekyll gets laid, and lanyon and hyde finally agree on something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am ashamed of the ending. i don't know why. i've written smut before. i blame danise because she came up with this/

Hyde had vanished, and Jekyll was starting to suspect that he was dead. And he'd go out and look for the little gremlin, but it was far too fucking cold outside for him and his admittedly shit immune system.

It was snowing, somehow, and rather heavily at that. The roads were covered in ice and snow that was at least three feel tall, and thus there weren't any carriages or cars on the roads. There were barely any pedestrians, too, at least outside the snowmen that the children and man-children had built to look like there was someone inhabiting the ghostly, lead-white London streets.

Speaking of men and women who thought they were children, all the Lodgers had gone out to play in the snow. Even Sinnett and Luckett were out there, even though the former seemed to be constantly complaining that the snow was making his arm malfunction and the latter still seemed to be on fire despite the biting weather. Rachel and Robert were out there, too, not seeming to mind the cold at all as they'd hardly changed their wardrobe, and had a spent a good hour telling off Tweedy for accidentally electrocuting Mr. Bird in his ecstasy.

All of that, Jekyll could see from his toasty seat in his office, but he couldn't see his strange little alter-ego, who that morning had gone out without any shoes and only five minutes later had shot back inside to fetch said missing shoes. But of course, as was the way of Edward Hyde, he had fucked off into the snow again, and last Jekyll had seen him, he had been trying to swim in the snow and was building snowmen by the side of the Society.

He waited a while, sipping a hot cup of coffee as he watched the Lodgers trying to kill one another with giant blocks of ice and as he watched Lanyon shriek like a baby when Rachel stuffed a snowball into the back of his pants and his shirt. Eventually, though, when there was no sign of the little beast, he dressed as warmly as he could and left to go find him.

"Hey, Dr. J!" Rachel greeted when he emerged, and the Lodgers echoed her enthusiasm. "I thought you said you weren't leaving the Society as long as there was snow on the road!"

"I wasn't planning to," said Jekyll, "but Hyde's run off somewhere again, and I have to find him before he finds some way to set the snow on fire."

Sinnett clapped at the idea. "If he does, tell him to tell me!"

"Of course, he'd be glad to," Jekyll muttered, turning away. "Now, I'll be off, have fun—!"

Upon instinct, he twirled around and leapt to the side as one of the ice blocks was thrown straight at him, and when he knew he was safe from any more attacks, he gave a little bow to the Lodgers, much in the vein of Edward Hyde. They stared at him for that, and so did Lanyon, but he quickly turned the corner of the building before any of them could ask.

He took a deep breath once he was safely out of their sights and chuckled at the row of snowmen with top hats by the side of the building — only to scream when one of the largest snowmen suddenly started shaking and jumped on top of him, burying him in a thick blanket of snow.

His screams were cut off when a cold hand covered his mouth, and he flailed about, trying to kick off whatever snow creature it was that had hopped on him, because good God he was prepared to die from a chemical accident or one of Hyde's stupid plans and heck, even from suicide, but he didn’t ever think he was going to die from some unknown snow beast that he wouldn't even have the chance to study.

  
"Stop flailing, you silly fuck!" a very familiar voice screamed, and Jekyll froze in place. He squinted through the snow that had been shoved in his eyes, and though for a while he only saw a blob of yellow, he eventually regained enough eyesight to see his chaotic alter-ego covered nearly wholly in snow and sitting on top of his chest.

"Hyde?" he asked, blinking and trying to remove the snow entirely from his vision. "What have you done — did you build yourself into a snowman? And," he squinted at the rest of the snowmen, which were markedly smaller than the large six foot tall snowman that Hyde hadn't built himself into, "have you built a snowman family? And a house? What? How did you build a house?"

Hyde gave him a flat look. "With snow, Henry," he said, and then gestured grandly to the row of snowmen. "And look! It's our snow family! And the snow house is our home!"

Jekyll raised an eyebrow. "Who's the giant snowman over there, then?" he asked, and Hyde flushed a positively gorgeous shade of crimson.

"The Creature," he muttered, and Jekyll chuckled, rubbing snow into Hyde's hair.

"I can't believe you're infatuated with the Creature, of all beings," said Jekyll, getting up and going over to inspect the six foot tall snowman. "Masterful construction, though, I must say. Not something I'd expect for someone as clumsy as you, Edward."

Hyde made an indignant noise. "Excuse me? Me? Clumsy? I travel the rooftops and the sewers of London with grace and beauty! I am anything but clumsy!"

"And yet you constantly end up overestimating or underestimating your distance only to fall into an alleyway or into someone's window," Jekyll pointed out, snickering, and Hyde smacked him in the arm. "Should I be envious, by the way? Of the Creature? Because it seems you've quite an interest in the abominable creations of mad science."

Hyde snorted. "One, your insecure ass is envious of everyone," he said, rolling his eyes, "and two, yes I do love the positively abominable and primitive and berserk and mad, but is there anyone on Earth more mad than you, my love?" He fluttered his eyelashes at Jekyll, and Jekyll blushed darkly.

"Don't — don't let them hear you," he mumbled as Hyde dragged them through the snow towards the surprisingly large and spacious house.  


"Who's gonna hear me, the snow children?" Hyde snorted. He tugged them both into the snow house, and once they were seated he was quick to climb into Jekyll's arms and sit on his lap. "And now, I have kidnapped the great and esteemed Dr. Jekyll! You may never leave my side so long as we live and even as we die! You may never leave this prison!" Hyde declared, stealing a quick kiss from the now giggling doctor who had his hands on Hyde's waist. He giggled, too, and brushed Jekyll's hair out of his eyes.

"If I consent to never leaving your side, would it still be kidnapping?" Jekyll asked, as they shared another kiss, and Hyde shrugged.

"Well, it'd be either eloping, Stockholm Syndrome, or marriage. Personally," Hyde fluttered his eyelashes at Jekyll, seemingly trying his best to look feminine despite having a face far too angular to seem anywhere near it, "I know what option I like the most."

Jekyll smirked. "Stockholm Syndrome?"

"No, marriage, you fool!" Hyde screeched, making Jekyll burst into a fit of rather undignified chortles. "Or maybe eloping, because it's not the illegal choice, but it has to mean that you actually love me!"

"Oh, Hyde, you know I do," said Jekyll, taking Hyde's face in his hands and gently caressing his cheeks, and also rolling his cheeks around to accentuate the blush already there. "But why eloping? I thought you said you wanted our honeymoon to be in Rome or on a tropical island?"

Hyde snorted. "Jekyll, love," he said, smirking his beautifully devious and utterly poisonous smirk as he removed Jekyll's cloak and set to unbuttoning his shirt, "quite frankly all I need for a honeymoon is you looking at me," he kissed Jekyll, soft and slow and smouldering, "like _that_ , without any clothes and with absolutely nothing to _hyde_. As long as we're together. . ."

He pulled Jekyll's shirt off and pushed his lover into the snow, and though Jekyll shivered, the heat rushing to his head warmed him enough. In Jekyll's ear, Hyde whispered as he made quick work of the clasps holding Jekyll's trousers together, ". . .I couldn't give less of a _fuck_ where we are."

•

Predictably enough, Jekyll got sick after that.

Hyde confined him to bed, clucking like a mother hen and fussing over Jekyll as if it wasn't his idea to get naked and get fucked in the snow, while Jekyll was complaining about Hyde's idea to get naked and get fucked in the snow. Lanyon, meanwhile, was utterly confused as to how Jekyll, who'd spent the least time in the snow, had gotten the most sick.

"Henry, how did you manage to get this ill?" Lanyon demanded, after Jekyll came down from another sneezing fit. He pressed a hot cup of tea into Jekyll's hands, ignoring Jekyll's indignant claims that tea was an inferior beverage, and also ignoring that Jekyll only shut up and drank the tea when the goblin named Hyde insisted on it. The less he knew about the strange and rather sudden relationship between Jekyll and his assistant, the better.

Said goblin seemed to be happy to answer for Jekyll, because he giggled and said, "Henry and I had our honeymoon!"

Lanyon stared at the goblin in confusion. "You — you what? But you two aren't married? You two cannot legally be married?"

Hyde nodded vigorously. "Yes!"

"What?" Lanyon asked, but never got his answer because he took quick notice of a very, very red Henry Jekyll who seemed to be whimpering. Hyde recognised Jekyll's embarrassment, but Lanyon's immediate thought was, "Henry! What's wrong? Oh God, you're not getting worse, are you?"

"No, he's not getting worse," Hyde said with a smirk, cooing though ignoring Jekyll's stares that very plainly showed his mortification. "He's getting hard."

"Hyde!" Jekyll shrieked, despite his cold, and Hyde only burst into a louder fit of laughter. Lanyon found himself blushing far too much for words spoken by the goblin, and Hyde seemed to notice, as he hopped up and stood on the bed, poking Lanyon's nose.

"Well, am I wrong, Jekyll?" Hyde asked, climbing onto Lanyon's back this time, which Lanyon didn’t seem to like but then again, what could he do? "Your little friend there seems to be showing and I'm quite sure it's not because of the cold."

"Hyde, please!" Jekyll begged, blushing and meeting no one's eyes.

Lanyon, though quite confused initially, eventually broke into an amused smirk, and Jekyll was horrified to see it reflected in Hyde's expression. "Oh, is _that_ how you got sick, Henry," Lanyon drawled, in a tone far too amused for Jekyll's liking. "How undignified of you, Henry Jekyll, to allow yourself to get sick just because you fancied a shag in the snow!"  


Jekyll went crimson. "It was not my idea!" he shrieked. "Hyde started it!"

"And you consented to it, and if I recall correctly, you were begging me not to stop," Hyde reminded him, and Jekyll groaned and buried himself in the pillow.

"End me," Jekyll complained, but Hyde gave him no mercy, rather sharing a smirk with Lanyon.

Why did the one thing they agreed on have to be messing with him? What did he do to deserve this?

"Shall I leave you two be, then? If you want to keep him warm and heal him, Mr. Hyde?" Lanyon asked, and Jekyll groaned.

"No! Get out! Both of you! Leave me be!" Jekyll screamed, and Hyde cackled as he and Lanyon both slipped out of the room.

"We love you, Henry!" Lanyon screamed back, and Jekyll screamed, "Fuck off! Fuck yourselves, you maniacs!"

Hyde giggled and happily chirped, "Fuck me yourself, Henry dear!"

_"No!"_


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> utterson screams. hyde gets cockblocked again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there are an abundance of smutty undertones in this one, so if that's not your thing, hop along! but for those who like a dash of limes in your fluff and angst, with blessedly no actual graphic sex, have this.

Gabriel John Utterson did not scream. Ever. He never raised his voice whether in glee or in anger. He wasn't a coward, either, more prone to trying to solve his own problems instead of running and hiding, either by stifling his emotions or by getting piss-ass drunk. Those methods were for Robert and Henry, respectively, and neither of them really worked for him. In part, it was because he never had many emotions to express, and in part, it was because he was just a touch more mature than both of his more ambitious and emotional friends. He was perfectly stoic and perfectly calm, even when he'd first come up to Jekyll's office and heard muffled moaning from the other side of a strangely unlocked door.

But right this second, standing silent as a shadow in the doorway of Jekyll's office, he wanted to scream. And run. And maybe lock himself in his cellar and drink himself into oblivion. He wouldn't even feel guilty for any of it, because it seemed a suitable response to what he'd just witnessed. A suitable response to having watched a perfect stranger very grotesquely _transform_ into a friend he'd known since school and through college. To having watched his dear friend gasp and convulse and grip the edges of a full-length mirror and try to muffle his screams as his bones seemed to tear themselves apart and knit themselves haphazardly back together, only to fall to the ground with a strange green liquid seeping out of his mouth, and only for a piece of him to seemingly be torn from him and spat onto the floor.

That was a human person on the floor, he belatedly realised, and not a pile of shaggy straw and flesh. But even so, he didn't think that his observations were invalid, seeing as said human person was completely naked.

"We did it, Henry!" the person cheered, seemingly not caring that he hadn't existed until a few moments ago or that he was naked as a penguin. Or that Henry was still slumped against the mirror, looking wild and unfocused. "We can fuse and separate at will! Think of the advantages of that! Now you don't need the potion to be me! And I don't have to stop existing when you're doing your boring ass paperwork!"

Jekyll, turning over and lying down, gasped for breath. "You don't know that. We still don't know if we can transform at will, whether together or apart." He let out a series of hacking coughs.

"I don't care about that!" the person said, looking indignant. I don't want to be you unless you're with me, and I'm insulted that you'd want to be me without me actually being there. Besides, stop being so pessimistic, you fuck! Now we can have the advantages both of being a single person and being separate! You can watch me get fucked without actually being there and you can be the one fucking me! Think on it, Henry! It's glorious!"

Utterson felt like he was being choked, but blessedly he did not yet bust a lung at the boy's crude language. Or at the insinuation that it would be glorious for Jekyll to be, er, _seducing_ , a man. Jekyll simply chuckled, though, seemingly used to it. "Of course your mind goes to fucking first," he said, sitting up and fondly, _fondly_ taking the person's hand and kissing his palm.

The person, with the most scraggly blond hair Utterson had ever seen, gave Jekyll a flat look. "Of course it does; do you know who I am? But may I remind you that it's your mind, too?" And much to the offense of Utterson's utterly virginal Victorian sensibilities, the man had the bloody _nerve_ to spread his _completely bare and naked legs_ before Jekyll! Utterson would've looked away if he could manage, because he'd long realised that seeing a naked man tended to give him the sort of existential crises that he did not particularly like, but the man was simultaneously so repulsive and attractive that he was stuck in limbo, close to screaming and running away but also unable to move. He couldn't decide what to do.

Jekyll, however, seemed to have no reservations about deciding, for he smiled and took the naked man in his arms, and embraced him and kissed him and _bit_ him and _reached down to touch him_ —! And the man was touching Jekyll too, _undressing_ him and touching him and _pleasuring_ him until they both were gasping into one another's mouths and—  


Utterson did scream.

Both the men in erotic embrace shrieked shortly after, in remarkably similar ways — and some part of Utterson's sluggish brain pointed out that of course they'd be similar, _they're the same man_ — and whirled to stare at their unwelcome audience. And under their stares, intense and surprise but also addled with lust, Utterson could do little but whimper, like some common, undignified perverse peasant.

Strangely, it was the blond man who first spoke. Jekyll, for his part, was frozen where he sat, his shirt messily undone and his trousers open and his face sweaty and blissful. But the blond man easily recovered, giving the lawyer an coy smirk and yet again spreading his legs, and though Utterson fought to keep from staring, it was quite impossible to tear his eyes away. "Why, John," he drawled, as if he _knew_ Utterson, and perhaps he did, "I don't think I've ever heard you scream. I'm quite honoured that it was for me."

Utterson flailed, and stumbled back against the doorway, his knees close to buckling. _I'll die_ , he thought, squeezing his eyes shut in humiliation. R _ight here. I hope I've done enough to avoid Hell_. "You — you don’t know me," he weakly protested. His breaths came quick and shallow.

"No, Gabriel, dear," said the man, and Utterson distantly realised that this man must be the Edward Hyde in Jekyll's will, and that his rather strange interest in the man made suddenly all the more sense, but between the man's nakedness and foxlike walk towards him, he couldn't focus on much else. Hyde approached him and whispered right into Utterson's ear, "It is _you_ who doesn’t know _me_."

"B- but you — you are Henry," he stammered, breathy and unbelievably afraid. "I — I know Henry."

"Not me," purred Hyde. He played with the hair at Utterson's nape, and Utterson near choked, utterly overwhelmed with an — an arousal that he refused to unpack. "You don't know me. I'm everything that your dear, good, _perfect_ friend Henry Jekyll doesn't let you see." He stared Utterson deep in the eyes, his gaze scorching every bit of skin it glazed over, and his voice dropped a good octave and a half when he spoke next. "I'm loud, reckless, impulsive, crude, and _insane_. I adore the beasts. I am enamoured with the most dangerous of mad sciences. And best of all. . ."

"I want to get dicked down and _fucked_ , harsh and rough and _bloody and bruised_ until the day I _die_."

Those crude words might've been what snapped Jekyll out of his stupor, and quickly he rushed over and tugged Hyde away from his old friend. "Hyde! That's —you know what Utterson is! Does! Are you insane!" he shrieked, shrill and panicked, and for a while, a pang of hurt came to Utterson's chest. Did Jekyll not trust him? Had Jekyll not wanted him to know?

Only then did it come to Utterson that he had walked in on something quite illegal. Ignoring the fact that Jekyll had seemed to somehow split his consciousness, for which there really were no laws and towards which Utterson had many, many conflicting feelings, homosexuality and sodomy were both highly illegal. Penalties ranged from 5-20 years, as of recent amendments, and of course, the social impact was quite staining. And as a lawyer, and one of the best in London, it was his responsibility to impose that penalty.

"I — _Henry_ ," Utterson stammered. "You can't really think I'll go to the police with this information? Do you really think I'd have you thrown in prison?"

Jekyll watched him with shifty eyes. "I — I don't know, John," he said. "I can't be sure. And you are in possession of two of my greatest secrets. I — I can't know for sure what you'll do with that knowledge."

"Henry, you can't — you can't really think that I'd willingly have you arrested! Do you think so poorly of me?!" Utterson protested. "You are my oldest friend! I would not see your name or, god forbid, your happiness destroyed! Go and sleep with men if you prefer! Bed a common pauper, a clerk, or a criminal, or even Robert if you fancy! I wouldn't have cared! Even if you'd fallen in love with and hid a murderer from the law, I'd protect you still! Why would you ever think otherwise?"

Jekyll shrugged. "I don't know. I know if — if Robert knew, he wouldn't hesitate. To tell me that it was wrong, that is. God knows why; I know he doesn't practise his religion in sincerity."

Utterson's face softened. "Oh, Henry," he whispered. "You know how he is. He was raised a certain way, with certain beliefs, and often the compulsion to adhere to those beliefs even if he does not believe them. But I was not. _We_ were not. And even if society at large would despise it — well, I can't ever find it in myself to despise _you_." And then he gave Hyde a tender smile, at which the man looked shocked at, but flattered all the same. " _Any_ part of you. Be that the part of you that indulges in mad science, or the part of you that indulges in throes of passion and sex."

Jekyll looked awed at his clear acceptance. "I — really? I would've thought you'd hate me for sure, if you ever found out. You — you're always so perfectly composed, never tempted. I always envied you for that, because there were always this primitive, berserk lust and madness in me that I could never be rid of. I — I couldn't be happy without it."

A calm smile came upon the lawyer's face. "Henry, you are my friend. And I assure you, I am nowhere near perfect. I don't have your charisma or intelligence or your undaunted confidence, and — and I think that I share your fondness for the male, uh, anatomy. And if you've ever felt that I would not support you, or that I couldn't possibly understand, or if I was complicit in making you feel as though you couldn't express yourself, your _true_ self, then I am sorry. I care for you more than I care for the law, or for your reputation, and certainly for much more than the act of a gentleman you like to put on. And if you need someone to come to — for comfort or advice or simply to talk to — I am here. You know me. I'm a man to be trusted."

Close to bursting into tears, Jekyll grinned widely and scooped up Utterson into his arms. "Oh, John," he gasped. "Thank you. So much. So, so, _so_ much."

"Always, Henry. Always."

Their embrace lasted a fair while, in complete silence but for Jekyll's muttered thanks and Utterson's mumbled apologies, until it was broken by Hyde's grinning and purring into both their ears, this time.

Smiling cheekily and still utterly _naked_ , Hyde asked, "So does this mean that neither of you would be too bothered if I had John take me against a wall?"

_"Hyde!"_


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edward Hyde really likes having sex. So when over a month of celibacy passes for him, he's desperate to have his way, and to get shagged good and hard and dirty in the middle of the Society.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the prologue of a frankly obscene smut shot now posted on my profile! Find it at https://archiveofourown.org/works/26193988 .

Edward Hyde really liked having sex. Loved it, actually. Was close to addicted to it, quite honestly. That was just fact, and it was a fact he refused to be ashamed of. Whether his partner was a man or a woman or all in between, and no matter how many people might be involved in the act, he enjoyed it. He enjoyed how powerful it felt to hold another's pleasure in his hands, or in his mouth. He enjoyed the pure indulgence of it all, to bring pleasure to another while taking his own in turn. And above all, he enjoyed just how alive it made him feel, how thrilled and invincible, especially when enjoyed with someone who truly cared for him, and wanted him, and loved him.

And though he'd stopped ending his debaucherous, depraved nights on the town with a back alley shag or a messy bar orgy, that didn't mean he was any less indulged in one of his favourite pastimes. It was common knowledge in the Society that he had found a regular, committed sexual partner in his dear creator and alter ego, who blessedly was as depraved and desperate as he was. Hhe tried to hide it behind tonnes and tonnes of utterly fragile Victorian repression, but it was like leaving a glass flask on the edge of a cliff. Let Hyde but undo the first three buttons of his shirt and recline lazily on their bed or on the desk in his partner's office, and perhaps purr a few pretty words and groan a couple of expletives as he pleasured himself, and Jekyll's perfect, pretty, unshakable façade shattered.

So, yes, Hyde still got fucked senseless and miraculously speeches, and quite well indeed, thank you for asking. For Jekyll, whenever free of his inhibitions and reservations, almost seemed possessed by the Devil. It was overwhelming even for Hyde to see and hear and feel his dear gentle and tender lover suddenly turn aggressive and so perversely berserk, driving into Hyde with near inhuman speed and strength and growling lustful, passionate, and hotly sinful words into his ears. And it was common for Hyde to pass out after a good night in the sheets, covered in scratches and bruises and occasionally bleeding, and he never tried to hide those marks, however embarrassed or worried Jekyll was over him. He liked that it was obvious how often, and especially how well he was getting fucked, insignificant as that seemed.

Unfortunately, recently the universe itself seemed to have decided that Hyde didn't deserve to get fucked, because he hadn't had good, hard, and blissfully debaucherous sex in nearly a month and a half.

It was a travesty! And no, it certainly was not for lack of trying! Since their separation — which had, yes, ended in sex — Hyde liked to get fucked in the most extreme way at least every week! Really, if he was still part chemical spirit of sorts, he'd be getting fucked hard and dangerous every single chance he had, but even he had to concede to human biology and his degree in medicine, and agree that if he got pounded harsh and rough every day then he was likely to break his bones. Of course, he and Jekyll still indulged most nights — and days, if Hyde could tempt the prudish doctor to take the risk — especially because Jekyll had a ton of love and fucks and cuddles to catch up on, but for those nights, they gave bare, rough, penetrative sex a rest.

But as of recent weeks, Hyde was getting increasingly agitated at the lack of said good bare, rough, and penetrative sex. Because every bloody time he was about to get nicely and roughly fucked, someone just had to fucking interrupt.

The first time it happened wasn't so bad. It had been an ominously quiet day, with none of the Lodgers causing potentially lethal explosions or letting poisonous chemical fumes waft through out the building, and there were blessedly no death threats or hate mail from the general populous, as they'd managed to impress the peoples of London with the recent exhibition without traumatising them too much. And so, instead of trying to get ahead with work like Jekyll wanted to do, Hyde had dropped to his knees in the middle of their office and taken Jekyll's leaking cock into his eagerly salivating mouth. Jekyll had vehemently protested at first, but eventually he'd given into his impulses and enjoyed the experience, and just as Hyde was desperately palming his own arousal and very excitedly awaiting the moment Jekyll would reach the peak of his pleasure, brought on by Edward Hyde and Edward Hyde alone. . .

. . . motherfucking Ito, of all people, walked in.

Now, let it be known that there is no quicker way to kill Jekyll's arousal than his frankly terrifying alchemy student. "Miss Ito!" he'd exclaimed, yanking himself away from Hyde and taking his sweet and warm weight away from his pouting partner. He's tried to cover himself up, and Hyde had tried to get Ito out of the room, but she'd hardly been phased, only taking a seat to discuss the renovations being made to their shared laboratory and taking absolutely ages. Suffice to say that Hyde had not gotten much action that day, but he'd just sat back down and pouted instead of burning down the Society. Jekyll would be proud of his restraint.

The next time it happened, Hyde had been much less forgiving. He and Jekyll were already in bed by then, and Jekyll was growling into his ears and biting down on his throat and ears and collarbone and spreading Hyde open on his fingers. They were naked, quite pleasurably so, and Hyde had been howling and baying like a wolf at the moon when an actual wolf started howling and smashed into their bedroom window. It had not been Jasper, unfortunately, because if it was Jasper all Hyde would have had to do was invite him to a threesome and the shy farmboy would have fucked off at the speed of light. No, it was a rogue werewolf, and quite dangerous, too, if the decidedly fresh blood on its teeth and claws was any indication, and Jekyll and Hyde had had to fuse in order to escape it. However, while running across the rooftops away from a very hungry wolf, Hyde had fallen into an alley and dislocated their elbow, which meant neither of them were allowed to move too much until it was set back.

Henry had been lucky, because all he had to do was not exist while Hyde was having his elbow set, but Hyde had ended up howling in a way decidedly less pleasurable than he'd wanted that night, and he'd been pissy all the next day and week, spitting curses at wolves and werewolves in general. Thankfully never around Jasper, but still.

And it kept bloody happening! Whenever Hyde was If it wasn’t one of the Lodgers that interrupted them, it was motherfucking Lanyon or Rachel or another weird beast of mad science! And they always didn't have enough time or the right place or the right stuff, because Jekyll actually had a sense of preservation and refused to have sex if they didn't have protection or lube, much to Hyde's irritation and utter frustration. And it. Had. Been. Six. Fucking. Weeks.

Six fucking weeks since Hyde had had a good, long, indulgent fuck. Six fucking weeks since Hyde had been pounded nice and hard into oblivion and unconsciousness. Six fucking weeks since he'd had so much as swallowed Jekyll's cock and had his throat and voice positively wrecked. Six motherfucking weeks since he'd been utterly decimated and overwhelmed by sexual bliss and desperation and pleasure.

Even worse was that Jekyll had bloody noticed his frustration, and yet seemed fucking immune to it! He'd even suggested, when Hyde was bitching about his frustration over a glass of wine, that Hyde hit a pub and find someone to seduce. What the fuck! It wasn't fair! Surely, Jekyll wanted him just as much, right? Surely, Jekyll was missing him, too; missing the feeling of their smooth and sweaty skin gliding over one another, the feeling of his desperate and whiny kisses and the feeling of having him. Of being so open to him.

Because it wasn't just the pleasure of their fucking that mattered so much to him. It was the fact that it was Jekyll, the man who knew him inside and out and still wanted him. The man who'd suffered at his hands so much, and yet could look at him with adoration and care, and not disgust and disdain or even black, dreadful indifference. And Hyde did miss him, so much, missed being so open and true and alive with him; and he missed being able to show Jekyll that he was utterly, dreadfully, irrevocably in love with him without having to say a single word.

Anyway, disgustingly romantic feelings aside, Hyde was both sexually frustrated and annoyingly insecure, and that was just absolutely fucking unacceptable! And Jekyll had the bloody nerve to strut around the Society in his beautiful suit and his sinfully tight pants and obscenely sexy hair as if he didn't fucking know what he was doing to Hyde! Well, Hyde didn't give a damn anymore! He was going to get fucked nice and hard and bloody, dammit, and not even the fucking Lord of the Universe was going to stop him!


End file.
